


The finish line's a good place we could start

by littlehands



Category: Doctor Who
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-19
Updated: 2010-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-13 19:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlehands/pseuds/littlehands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Martha hadn't intended to take the job at Torchwood, actually it was the last thing she wanted, another crazy adventure that would lead to death, destruction and a broken heart - plus Cardiff wasn't as exciting as all of time and space. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	The finish line's a good place we could start

**Author's Note:**

> Post S3 fic // Martha/Jack, implied Martha/Ten UST
> 
>  _I feel like I am watching everything from space  
>  And in a minute I hear my name And I wake  
> I think the finish line's a good place we could start  
> Take a deep breath, take in all that you could want _~Snow Patrol

Martha hadn't intended to take the job at Torchwood, actually it was the last thing she wanted, another crazy adventure that would lead to death, destruction and a broken heart - plus Cardiff wasn't as exciting as all of time and space. First things first, she found a new flat and spent what seemed like days buying new clothes and furniture. Guess that's typical after your flat blows up. Even though her Mother had said that she could move back home, like Tish was, she wanted her own space. Plus the commute to the hospital would have been terrible, and the idea of being at home again would make her cringe all over. She loved her family, even more so now after she put them through a terror - but she needed somewhere her own, that she could let out her feelings and try not to cry herself to sleep every night.

The crying stopped once work and exam prep got into full swing again - the dreams lingered on, the what ifs and the what could have been that left her more tired than when she had gone to bed. She tried to make new friends, didn't work so well - she kept wondering, did they die in the missing year - it was like talking to ghosts. She tried to go out, got all dressed up and pretended to care for just a moment - every skinny boy with messy hair and a smirk made her do a double take.

She even tried to date, but it never got past the clubbing stage, no one was right any more - she had see the vastness of space, everything seems singular and small. Not that she didn't want some companionship now and then, but no one seemed right. Some how she pulled through, most staying to herself, pushing and pushing for good marks and the respect of her teachers. But it was lonely, reaching out to people only made her pull back in on herself - she haunted the coffee shop on the corner and lived in her scrubs and jeans.

Her new phone was always by her side (thankful she could blame it on work, and not have to admit to the real reason), she knew that he wouldn't call. As many times as he did in her dreams, she knew that he wouldn't, she just had a hunch that he didn't come back for his companions - more so if they asked him too. Strangely enough, she knew that she'd see him again, just not in the sweeping declarations of not-quite-love that she thought up on night shifts, half asleep and bored.

She passed her exams, with distinction, and took a month of leave before she'd start her first job as a real doctor. She really meant to go somewhere on holiday, far away, maybe somewhere warm. Didn't happen, or really she never got much of that vacation, since Jack Harkness showed up at her door the day exam results where posted with two bottles of wine and a grin.

She stood there with the door open, with a grinning Captain on the other side, not really knowing what to say. She's in a vest and scrub pants, there he is in his great coat and braces - she suddenly feels very under dressed.

"You going to let me in, Doctor Jones?"

"Yes, of course. I just didn't expect ... what are you doing here Jack?"

He brushes by her, into her living room, shrugging his coat off.

"Saw the results, though you might want to do some celebrating. Actually didn't know that you'd be home, though you might be out with friends."

"No, had a night shift yesterday, just wanted to catch up on my sleep. Plus a big night out is always the worst coming off of nights."

She takes the bottles of wine from the table, quick glance at the label (not that she knows anything about wine), pops into the kitchen for glasses and to avoid Jack's gaze for a moment. She knows that she's flushed and a little nervous to have Jack sitting on her couch. Not that she didn't want to see him again, just he makes her palms sweat. He was interested in her, that perpetual flirt - but there was more to it she thought, that shared experience, shared memories - made him even more attractive to her. Quick glance at her reflection in the shiny front of the fridge, she sighs slightly and smiles and head back into the living room, glasses in hand.

She hands him a glass, noticing that his eyes never leave her, and sit besides him on the couch - curling her legs under her as she take a healthy sip of wine.

"Careful, we've got all night."

His hand is on her knee, she swallows.

"Jack, it's not that this isn't a great surprise, but why are you here?"

His hand still on her knee, and he's nudged a bit closer. Can't help but look in his eyes, clear yet so deep and dark.

"I know I'm not him, but figured you shouldn't be alone times like this."

"I don't expect you to be, Jack. I just want you to be you, I like that ... a lot."

Silence, they both drink. She's almost in his lap, legs pressed against his. He takes the glass from her, putting it safely on the table besides his. He touches her cheek, running his fingers over her skin, down her chin - cupping her face in his palm. She can't help it as her eyes close and she leans into him. She isn't surprised when his lips meet hers, it had been on her mind since she opened the door tonight. He's gentle, almost to the point of being tentative, and when she drapes her arms around his shoulders, he knows that she's as interested as him.

They kiss, he can't get enough of her kisses, solid and hot. She climbs into his lap, her legs pressing against his as she settles into his arms - she needed to be closer to him, feel him, touch him. He pulls away, chest pounding, a little too pleased to finally have her in his lap.

"Is this what you want Martha?"

She smiles, lips swollen, slides her hips down to meet his. Doesn't take her eyes off of his, even when she feels him slide his hand under the back of her shirt, warm and smooth. He feels real, all of him, she thinks. Time to live again with someone who she doesn't have to hide anything from, and who understands, because no words are enough to describe all that she has seen. But he knows, just knows and that's a wonderful feeling.

And whispers, "Yes".


End file.
